Chapter Text
London Bound
Chapter One
Anne Lister stared out the window, uninterested for the moment in speaking to anyone else in the carriage compartment. Despite Ann's instructions to talk to Marian, she hadn't been able to do so, not with Eugenie and John Booth in such close proximity. At least that is what she told herself. She simply did not know what to say to Marian. The mood inside the carriage, on day two of their journey, was dark; didn't help that it was still dark outside. They had stayed at an inn overnight and were off again at 5:30 the next morning. No one needed a wake-up call, or extra encouragement, they all knew they had to hurry and make good time. They would reach London by nightfall, where Tib was waiting for them if all went well. John's young brother Joseph had done very well with driving the horses, and John and Anne had taken turns to make the trip less grueling. Still, Anne was tired and plagued by a persistent headache. Ever since her surgery on her head wound, this had been a problem she faced most days. Ann was aware and Anne was tired of the questions about how she felt and didn't want to bother Ann with the same answer--so they had stopped discussing it.
"I'm interviewing two ladies and a gentleman tomorrow," Ann had said casually the day before Anne had left for London. "Good," Anne had responded. "I'm sure all three candidates are very qualified." Ann had paused as if she wanted to say something more, but she seemed to require prompting.
"What's wrong?" Anne had asked, taking her hand. "You're not worried, are you? I know you will pick the best teacher for the job."
Ann was still hesitant. "You told me weeks ago that I should hire a woman...that not enough women get hired for any kind of job, and that I should--should--"
Anne squeezed her hand. "I was wrong. You should hire whomever you think will do the best job for the children. And I was wrong because it's your decision, Ann. So go ahead. It will be fine."
But later that day, they learned about Martine and a hasty decision was made to travel to London the next day. That evening, when Anne had continued to peruse her mail, she saw she had missed an envelope. There was no return address, and she didn't recognize the handwriting on the outside of the envelope. It was quite light, and she quickly opened it.
Anne hadn't slept that evening, her emotions were so overwhelming. Now, as she stared out the carriage window, she couldn't stop thinking about the way things had been left between them, and her heart ached with regret and an unabated feeling of betrayal. Ann had lied to her about Gerald. She had lied, and that meant something. Why lie if it didn't? The same scene replayed in her head. She had brought Aunt Anne and Samuel to Lidgate, where they would stay with Janie that day while Ann attended to her job interviews at Crow Nest.
"I need to see you alone, please," Anne had said to Ann, once she had said her goodbyes to the children. Something in Ann's face had flickered, and Anne's heart pulsed with hurt. Ann forced a smile, because, apparently Anne's face gave away her distress.
Ann led her into the next room and shut the door. Anne stood with her head bowed, her hand in her back pocket.
Ann brought her hand up to Anne's neck. "What is it? Are you worried about Martine?"
Anne still refused to look at her. "I received some mail from an anonymous person yesterday. I almost missed it. There's no letter, just this." She handed it to Ann, who took it with a frown. Her face immediately fell into an agonized expression when she read what was inside. It was the newspaper announcement of her "engagement" to Gerald.
Ann tossed it to the floor. "It's not real," she said. "And that's all I'll say right now because you're too angry to discuss it right now."
"What do you mean it's not real?"
"Gerald did it to try and blackmail me into marrying him. He put pressure on me to marry him, even after I said no."
"I was out of my mind when this was published. And I can understand why you didn't tell me then, but why did I have to find out this way?"
"It doesn't matter," Ann said, trying to keep eye contact with Anne.
Anne swept the paper off the floor and pressed it to her heart. "It does matter!"
She didn't like it when Anne was this way. She could understand why she was angry, but she couldn't discuss it right now. Anne wanted to confront and she wanted to avoid. The same old story.
"Please keep your voice, down, the children and your Aunt are in the next room."
"Why didn't you tell me, Ann? If he was doing something you didn't want, you should have told me. It's my job to protect you."
"We--we weren't completely reconciled, Anne. And I wanted to handle it on my own."
"So how did you handle it? Did he do something else? Please, tell me."
"I told you, I don't want to discuss this now. When you get back."
Anne balled up the announcement and shoved it into her pocket. "Did you fuck him?"
"What?"
Anne walked closer. "I asked if you fucked him. Did you let him fuck you, Ann? I know he wanted to. Did you want him? Be honest with me, please."
Ann shook her head. "I didn't--I wasn't with him. But if I had, it would have been my choice, Anne. Not his and not yours...you and I weren't together then. And as you accuse me of fucking someone else, I hope I don't need to remind you why we weren't together."
Anne pushed her up against the wall, her face inches away from Ann's. She leaned her leg in between Ann's thighs and heard Ann's breath catch.
"What the hell do you think you're doing?" Ann breathed.
Anne took hold of her by the waist and kissed her hard, reaching her other hand down to lift up her skirt, but Ann caught her hand. "Don't," she warned.
Anne quickly let her go and backed up with her hands raised.
"Why are you so afraid of me? What did Danforth do to you?"
Ann looked away. "Please. I don't want to do this right now. You're frightening me." Anne's temper had always been something to contend with, but ever since she'd been attacked at the mines she had moments where she seemed on the verge of losing control. There was a thin line between excitement and fear for Ann. Although she didn't want to fear Anne, at moments like this, she had to admit to herself that she did.
Anne bit her lip, now trembling with rage and the desire to make Ann understand her. "Adney, I'm not like them. I'm not Ainsworth and I'm not Gerald. I won't ever force you to do anything you don't want to do. But please tell me what happened between you and Gerald."
Ann shook her head and stared past Anne.
Ann crossed her arms. "Alright. Alright, I am going to take that as a yes that something happened--that he tried to force himself on you."
"I didn't say that," Ann said.
Anne's breath was coming too fast now. "Fine. When I get back from London, I'll pay Mr. Danforth a visit then. I'll ask him directly, and I'll settle the issue that way."
"There is no issue to be settled, Anne. The posting's been taken down, and Gerald is no longer a part of my life."
"If he hurt you, then I'll hurt him so badly that he won't be able to do it ever again. That's the way it needs to work."
"No," said Ann firmly. "This isn't about you and your chauvinistic ideas about restoring my honor or obtaining revenge. And if you love and trust me, I need you to respect my wishes on this."
"And if you love and trust me, you'll tell me the truth."
London Three days Ago...
Martine was shoved and pulled out of the back of the wagon into the blazing sunlight. Her feet were bare and she landed on sharp rocks and dirt, but that was the least of her problems. She was in a large courtyard that was surrounded by a huge wrought iron fence.
"Line up, line up!" a man was shouting. Someone shoved her again, and she almost toppled over she was so thirsty and weak. I'm still in London.
"Psst," she said to the man in front of her in line. "I'm Martine," she said.
"Donovan," he whispered back at her without turning his head.
"Donovan, what the fuck is this?" She murmured to him.
"They're slavers. Getting ready to separate us."
"Slavery is outlawed here now," she said.
"Do you think they care about that? It's still going strong elsewhere, and they'll be making that money still. I heard them talking...they said some of us will go to America and the rest to Jamaica."
"They are not taking us any fucking-where," she promised.
"Are you French? Pretend you can't speak English. Maybe that'll help."
The tip of a heavy whip smashed into the dirt next to their feet. "No talking! You don't speak unless spoken to," a large bearded man screamed into her face. "Do you hear me, n***er?"
Martine spat down at the man's feet. "My name is Martine, you fat fuck. And I am a French citizen."
The man grabbed her by the neck and dragged her out of the line with alarming strength. He pushed her toward a large metal pole, with a single rope dangling from it. She slammed face first into the pole immediately tasting blood. Dazed, she could feel her already fastened hands being tied above her head tightly. "There's always at least one I need to make an example of," shouted the overseer to the rest of the people he'd just kidnapped.
"Wait," she protested, starting to turn to her left. The lash of the whip landed against her ribcage with a sickening crack, and all of her breath was knocked out of her. She struggled to pull her hands free, when the second strike of the whip landed against her back, ripping a gash in her shirt. Her legs bent and she was now suspended from her arms. Her vision began to grey when the third lash split her skin open. By the fourth, she was nearly unconscious and didn't even feel the rope being untied and she was pushed to the ground.
She woke up not too long afterward, and she was being pulled up again by her bound hands. "Get on your feet, n***er," the overseer laughed, dragging her up to a standing position. He kicked her in the back, which was on fire. "Get back in line!"
Her momentum sent her careening into another woman who was standing in line. Through blurry eyes, she could see a steaming black kettle and knew immediately what was happening, but everything seemed to slow down. The woman was screaming in front of her, and then the woman was shoved out of the way and three people were grabbing her head, her torso to hold her still, and someone yanked what was left of her shirt down. She saw and felt the red hot brand sizzle past her ear, and then it was pressing into the back of her shoulder for an excruciating three seconds that she would forever remember. She screamed and thrashed, but it was no use.
Tib's London Flat
Joe the horse was fine, Anne was happy to see once they had made their way to Isabella "Tib" Norcliffe's small London apartment. She provided him with a bag of oats and put a coat over his back, as the fog began to descend that evening. Tib met them at the door, looking disheveled, not quite herself. To Anne's surprise, Tib had cut her hair much shorter, and it was parted on the side. Other than this flattering style, Tib looked an absolute mess. It appeared she had made an attempt to clean up her flat, but the attempt didn't hide the number of empty liquor bottles and errant clothes scattered around the apartment. Tib didn't usually travel with any servants, claiming that they "cramped" her "style", but Tib also didn't know how to properly clean up after herself, as was clear.
Marian, John, Eugenie, and Joseph didn't seem to notice or care, they were so exhausted.
Anne and Tib sat up that night drinking a bottle of red wine together. Martine had been well enough, Tib explained again. She had left Joe at Tib's apartment with the understanding that she intended to return by the end of that day but never had.
"Honestly, I don't know where to start," said Tib. "I have no idea where she could be...she does have a tiny apartment here in some woman's basement, but I've gone there every day since I last saw her, and there's been no sign. I went down to the closest jail and asked for her. They said they had no record of such a prisoner having been processed." Tib took a long drink from her glass and then sighed, leaning her head on Anne's shoulder. "Anne, I know you don't want to hear this, but I am an extreme mess right now."
"I see that," Anne noted. "Before she left, Martine said you seemed low--that maybe Polly leaving again got to you more than she'd thought."
Tib waved her hand in the air. "It is what it is...something else actually happened--a few things actually. And...I was wondering if I could come and stay with you for a time. On the outs a bit with my family," she admitted.
"What? Why?"
Tib rubbed at her red cheeks and combed her hair back with her fingers. "Uh...I think I said some things I shouldn't have...but I don't remember exactly what. I was on a bit of a bender." There's something else, but I just can't talk about this yet with Anne. Not yet, even though she's probably the only person who will understand.
Anne sighed and corked the bottle, putting it to the side. "Of course, you can stay at Shibden after we find Martine. But I need you to sort yourself out, mate. Just long enough to find her. We've got to do this for our friend."
"Yeah." Tib nuzzled her shoulder a little more affectionately than was typical, which Anne ignored for now. "How's your sweet Ann?" Tib mumbled, nearly falling asleep.
Anne sighed again and uncorked the wine again, pouring the rest into her cup. "She's quite cross with me, actually. Do you want to hear about it? I could use some advice, I just seem to keep doing or saying the wrong thing to her, and then I need to apologize, but then I do it all over again. It's as though I never learn. You know?" She turned her head but saw that Tib was already asleep and starting to snore. Hey ho.
Anne adjusted Tib on the couch and covered her with a large blanket. When she turned to leave she saw Marian standing in the doorway. Her eyes were red, and she held her hands tightly clasped together in front of her.
"I'm afraid, Anne," she admitted.
Anne walked closer and pulled her into an embrace. "I know," she said. "But Martine is a very capable person. She's survived so much in her life and I truly believe that we'll find out what's happened and she'll be fine."
Marian hugged Anne probably more tightly than she ever had before. "I think I drove her away, Anne. I didn't tell her how I really feel, and now she's gone."
"She's not gone. She's somewhere here in this city and we'll find her."
"Anne I believe Lord Mabely is behind her disappearance. She's trying to uncover secrets about him and he's trying to stop her from doing it."
Anne squeezed her sister tightly. "Marian, if what you say is true, he's not going to get away with it."
Somewhere in London, Two days earlier...
Martine shuffled along, hardly able to move her feet. Her body was beaten and bloody but still functional. The gruel she'd been given that morning had even more bugs than the prison gruel in Halifax, but she ate it without question. It was either that or to have no strength whatsoever, to fight and live to see another day. She noted with some hope that Donovan was alright and that he was in front of her, moving toward a new wagon. Inside was a u-shaped bench where they would be expected to sit until they were forced onto a ship. Then depending on where she was being kidnapped to, it would take 4-6 weeks to arrive. She wasn't worried about surviving the trip, because she couldn't see that far ahead and didn't want to. She had to survive each predicament, each violent encounter until she had ultimately freed herself, and only then could she think about the future or anything else.
Martine's heart thumped in her chest as she approached the back of the wagon. Donovan glanced behind him at her, and then he looked deliberately at the ground. She saw it. It was a small, rusty iron spike, smaller than a railway spike, perhaps it had fallen out of one of the wagon wheels. She cleared her throat and then bumped into him on purpose, and he bent forward, his bound hands reaching for the spike in the dust. Martine shouted something in French to cause a distraction, and the overseer was immediately at her side. "You in first, troublemaker," he shouted, picking her up and shoving her into the wagon. She rolled all the way toward the front then pulled herself up onto the seat. There was a small partition between the captive compartment and the driver area, but not much attention had been given to this since the captives were tied up.
Donovan was the last to be pushed inside and he nodded solemnly at her making eye contact and flashing the spike in his palm. She nodded back, a simple plan having been agreed upon.